


Wishing

by sadsparties



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Birthday, Fluff, Gen, Traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-28 05:17:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadsparties/pseuds/sadsparties
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras gets a birthday wish, but making it is not as easy as he thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wishing

Enjolras eyed the glowing plate suspiciously. Contrary to his previous speculations, no dismembered limb had erupted from the mound of strawberries in the middle, but his apprehensions were still not eased.

“Are you certain about this?” he asked out of civility.

At the other side of the table, with elbows on knees and the tips of his fingers pressed together in anticipation, Combeferre nodded. “My research has accurately discovered the mechanics involved,” he said as he eyed the candles standing vigil. “As to the results, there are varied records of effectiveness, but at the minimal, we have the procedure covered.”

At this, Enjolras’s excitement deflated slightly. “Do you mean to say that this is only one of your scientific exploits?”

Combeferre’s tight stance became tighter still. He denied vehemently. “Of course not! This is for your sake as well.”

For Enjolras’s sake or not, the essentials had been set up. Earlier that day, Combeferre had propositioned that they perform an ancient Greek practice for Enjolras’s special day. Prone to indulging in Combeferre’s chimerical leanings, Enjolras agreed. From the patisserie, he chose a plate of fruit tart topped with strawberries and apricots. When they arrived in their apartment, Combeferre pulled their curtains over the widow, lay the fruit tart on the table, and proceeded to implant 23 candles on the cream. The candles were so thin Enjolras suspected that Combeferre may have made them himself.

“If this venture is successful, then it would be good for your welfare.” Combeferre said. “It would provide me my proof, yes, but your happiness is my primary concern.”

Enjolras did not really need to be convinced, but the contrite look in Combeferre was too much to resist. He braced himself, inhaled a healthy gulp of air, and blew.

Enjolras’s cheeks inflated from the effort, and his lips formed a small hole to release a steady draft . It was a sight to see, and had not Combeferre been making sure that all candles were extinguished, he would have extended his amusement.

“Make sure that you smother them all in one blow!” He watched intensely, both to the valiant attempt of one last candle to remain alive, and to Enjolras’s crusade to eliminate the enemy with his puffy cheeks and watering eyes. It was an epic battle between man and nature, the bellum magnum, the great campaign against the forces of oxygen. 

At long last, the candle surrendered, and Enjolras’s efforts culminated into a cough. He bent over as Combeferre grinned at him proudly and patted his shoulder. “May the smoke carry your wish to the gods,” he said as a means to appease the suffering Enjolras.

At this precise moment, their door burst open to the jovial sight of Courfeyrac carrying several packages. He took one look at the ailing Enjolras and said, “Dear me! Is your occult ritual over? I would have loved to bear witness.”

“Silence, Courfeyrac.” came the patient’s somber order.

In the flurry of Courfeyrac displaying their friends’ various presents, Enjolras’s soreness abated, and he pondered if he should tell Combeferre that his wish had already come true. Indeed, he wondered if his wish even needed a candle to come true: he was already surrounded by family.


End file.
